Page 18 of Something Rad
Thered car.
Robbie Summers honks his horn the moment his face comes into view, the sound reverberating throughout the entire gym. Right as I think he plans to drive straight into the bleachers, the Camaro skitters to a hard stop. Right in front of Denise.
Yeah, that’s definitely going to leave a mark.
Robbie quickly hops out of the car and slams the door, Ray Bans still on his face along with a huge grin.
He walks right up to a very stunned Denise. The moment he gets directly in front of her, Robbie spins on his heel, breaking into dance and singing along to the song with so much swagger that you’d think he wrote the damn thing.
With absolutely impeccable timing, Kate Andrews appears out of nowhere with twoactual sledgehammersin hand.
“What in the–” I mutter aloud, but break off, too stunned to speak even to myself.
Kate hands one hammer to Robbie right before he slides to his knees in front of Denise, using the handle of the hammer as an air guitar as he proclaims right along with Peter Gabriel that he wants to be her sledgehammer.
The gym goes berserk. Everyone jumps out of their seats, clapping loudly and whooping their praises and approvals of the performance. I manage to tear my eyes away from the absurd scene in front of me long enough to find Alice’s gaze in the crowd. Her jaw is just as slack as mine. We both shake our heads with wide eyes, mouthing similar exclamations of shock to each other.
When I look back towards the middle of the gym, the rest of the cheer team has now joined in on the act, creating a circle around Denise and Robbie, swinging their own sledgehammers around in synchronized clearly pre-planned dance moves.
I shake my head in disbelief.
There is nothing this man can’t do. This arrogant, entitled, infuriatingly perfect-haired man. This absolutely self absorbed jerk that steals seats and doesn’t even apologize when ruining someone's outfit on the first day of school–
Okay, that might be personal, butstill.
The man bent theentirecheer team to his will!
Well…
Not theentirecheer team, it seems?
Denise still looks shocked. Her mouth is open and her body language is rigid as Robbie continues to serenade her. He’s slipping his jacket off now, letting it fall to the floor. That garners just a few hundred squeals from girls in the crowd.
I resist the involuntary urge to roll my eyes, but am unable to look away.
Robbie makes his way closer to Denise, closing the distance between them as the song continues, his head bobbing faster and his enthusiasm only continuing to grow. A light sheen of sweat covers his forehead and I hate that it makes him look even more attractive.
I feel a lump of nausea settle in my throat at that internal thought.
Justobjectivelyattractive. Of course that’s all I meant.
I shake my head.
The entire scene before me begins to turn my stomach sour, sending a million thoughts swirling through my mind. As much as I want to ignore the urge, I feel my fingers begin to twitch. I blow out a breath, feeling for the back pocket of my jeans.
I grind my teeth together when I realize my journal is in there just like I thought, and so easy to access. Before I can stop myself, I pull it out, flipping to the next free page and scribbling down the quickest thought I can manage before slamming it shut and shoving it back into my pocket. I hope I won’t even be able to decipher its meaning later, but…I also secretly hope Iwill. This scene might be infuriating in a lot of ways, but,God, it’d make for great entertainment.
I raise my gaze again as Robbie abandons his sledgehammer, reaching out both of his hands instead for Denise’s face. I feel my heart rate spike at the motion, a small gasp escaping me as Robbie starts to pull Denise to him. Right before he reaches her, however, the music abruptly stops all at once.
It’s as if the lack of music jars me back to reality, the weight of my camera slung around my neck suddenly feeling very heavy. I realize at that moment that I didn’t take a single picture of what just happened here in the midst of my shock.
Shit.
I’m sure this event wouldn’t be school approved anyways, but still. It’s a story. An unforgettable moment. Regardless of how sick it may make me to my stomach, it deserves to be documented.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
I continue to snap photos as Principal Whileyman comes into view, holding up the keys to the Camaro. The entire gym goes dead silent.
